Let Me Be Your Valentine
by Nette
Summary: It’s Valentine’s Day … and Carter and Abby spend that day together …


**Rating**: PG  
**Spoilers**: No spoilers.  
**Summary**: It's Valentine's Day … and Carter and Abby spend that day together …  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything ... ; )  
**Feedback**: Sure, I'd love to know what you think! nette_mails@yahoo.de or use the review button. ; )  
**Author's notes**: I'm late again … this is my entry to the Once Can Only Hope February challenge. It's a bit unusual .. but give it a chance. ; )  
Thank you Jo for beta reading! ::hugs::  
  
The challenge was:   
- a spontaneous Valentines Day outing  
- must include the line: "Here we are again."  
- 1500 – 2500 words  
  
  
**"Let Me Be Your Valentine"**  
  
  
_Why am I even doing all this?_  
That's what I'm asking myself when I look around the living room.   
The apartment is clean, the table is set and the food is cooked, waiting for him to come home. I even bought flowers – though that should really be _his_ job – especially today.   
  
But instead I'm sitting on the couch – alone – looking at my watch for the hundredth time already, waiting for him.   
He's late. He promised to be home immediately after work. He was off at five pm. Now it's seven pm and he didn't even call to tell me what's wrong.   
I'd worry if it was for the first time – but sadly, I'm used to it by now.   
  
And it's not even to my own surprise when I notice that I don't really care whether he's here or not. It just annoys me that I had all the work with the cooking.   
That brings me back to my original question. _Why am I even doing all this?_  
  
It's probably because I want what we used to have back. But it's been gone for so long now – I don't think we can bring it back.   
_Was it ever there?_ That's another question I have. It's been going wrong for a while now.   
Do I care? Honestly – not really. But there's still something inside of me that wants to save this. That wants to have back what we had in the beginning – or what we thought we had in the beginning.   
  
But what was that? Him? I doubt it. His love? I doubt that as well. There never was much. We surely cared and still care about each other ... but nothing more.   
He's a good guy, though. But he's just not _it_. I guess it was just convenient for the both of us to always have someone around. But I fear that's all.   
And we both know that. We're just too scared to lose our routine to admit that everything is going wrong. Though lately I have the feeling that _he_ is about to do something about it.   
  
Just when I'm about to get lost in my own thoughts I hear him at the door.   
  
"Hey Abby," he says with a smile on his face. But I know him well enough to know when it's a genuine smile and when it's fake – and this one is fake.   
"Hey Kyle," I answer politely and get up from my spot on the couch.   
I walk over to him to share another routine of ours – one of the two kisses a day. One when he leaves the house and one when he comes back. But this time he backs away. I think it's because he wants to apologize for being late. For letting me wait on a day like this one with a three course meal all prepared ready for his eventual return. But that's not the case. Though I was right – he wants to apologize.   
  
"Abby, … " he starts and I know immediately that nothing good is awaiting me. That's also when I smell a hint of a non familiar perfume on him.   
  
My stomach twists immediately. I pictured this moment several times already. But I thought I could take it better.   
  
Anger starts to build up inside of me first. But then I see that it's no use. He's right. This doesn't make sense – not for him and not for me.   
"Don't bother," I tell him, raising my hand to prevent him from saying out loud what we both already know. "It's okay, I understand."   
He shakes his head. "I'm sorry … "  
"Don't be," I tell him, forcing my lips to form a smile. "It's better like this."   
  
He nods slowly, putting his hand on my shoulder. "I didn't mean to … I … "  
I cover his hand with mine. "I know. Really, it's okay."   
He nods again. "For my stuff … " he begins. But I interrupt him.   
"You can come to get it whenever you can. We're not in a hurry. Keep the keys and give them back to me when you have all your things."   
He nods again. That seems to be all he's still capable of. I guess he didn't expect it to be this easy in the end. Me neither to be honest.   
  
He lets his hand slide down my shoulder and lets it, together with his other, disappear in the pockets of his jacket before he turns around to leave my apartment – my life.   
But before he's gone he turns back around. "Friends?" he asks carefully, with a slight smile on his face.   
  
This time _I_ nod. "Friends." Though we both know that it won't happen. I'm not mad at him and he's not mad at me – but I just don't think this will happen. We don't have enough in common. But again – we're too scared to admit it.   
"Take care of yourself."   
"You, too."   
  
And with that he's gone.   
I sit back down on the couch and take in the sight of our apartment. _My_ apartment.   
And even though I'm honestly fine with it – I can't prevent a single tear starting to trickle down my cheek. After all, there will be something missing in my life now. And it always hurts to lose something – or someone.   
  
**_Here we are again_**, I think to myself. Back to home alone.   
I can't take it anymore, being alone here. I have to get out. 

***

  
I breathe in the chilly February air when I leave my apartment.   
I love walks along the river at nights. Kyle always told me I shouldn't do it – it's not safe. But I could never stay away from it for long. It just helps me to clear my mind, makes me forget about my problems and lets me see them in a different light.   
  
But I frown when I reach my favorite bench. A young man is sitting on my spot, looking absent-mindedly at the river.   
At the moment I feel like yelling at him to leave, to leave me alone to sit on my spot to get lost in the motion of the water. But I don't fancy another unpleasant incident tonight. And it's not exactly his fault that I'm in a rather bad mood. So I just walk up to him and sit down: he doesn't even look up at me.   
  
I sigh deeply and join him gazing at the water when I feel his head turn towards me carefully.   
Poor guy. He looks really down. But that's what Valentine's Day does to singles I guess. I should know – I'm a single again, too. Though I'm already enjoying that nobody's telling me what I should and shouldn't do.   
  
I turn my head towards him as well and a smile appears on my face. I have no idea where it's coming from but it's a welcome thing after the recent events.   
  
He returns a shy smile. And I don't know what's making me do this – but I suddenly feel like talking to him.   
  
"Alone tonight, too?" I ask him. "Valentine's Day sucks when you're single. Sometimes it feels like they only invented it to annoy us," I add, looking back at the river again, not sure whether he found my attempt of a joke really funny or not.   
He just nods. He doesn't really seem talkative.   
"Especially when your boyfriend leaves you on that day."   
  
He's still looking at me. "Oh," is all he says for while. "I'm sorry," he adds. "That seems to be a common ritual these days. Break your significant other's heart on Valentine's Day."   
My head snaps around to look at him. "Oh. You, too?"   
He nods.   
"But it's better this way," we say in unison.   
  
That makes us both laugh. And I can only speak for myself – but that's my first genuine laugh in a really long time. It doesn't last long, though as we both realize that we didn't exactly experience anything funny tonight.   
  
He's the first to speak again after a short pause in surprisingly comfortable silence.   
"How long have you two been together? If I may ask," he adds shyly.   
"Not for long. Six months. It was never _it_, though. He's a nice guy. But he thought tonight would be the right time to tell me that he met someone new," I say and pause before I shrug my shoulders. "But it's really better. I want him to be happy."   
He nods knowingly. "We were together for eight months. She told me earlier that she doesn't love me. But I'm okay with it. It was a nice time but I knew it wouldn't be for long."   
  
We both know we're not _that_ okay. But we don't need to say it out loud to feel it. And to talk about it already helps.   
  
"Oh," he chuckles suddenly. "Where are my manners?" he jokes and extends his hand for me. "I didn't introduce myself yet. We're sharing the same fate so you should at least know my name. John. John Carter."   
I smile and shake his hand. "Abby." I don't really feel like telling him my last name yet.   
He smiles back at me and holds my hand for a bit long. Not long enough for it to feel uncomfortable – but long enough for me to notice. And it seems like he notices it, too when our hands part again. But our eyes stay locked.   
  
"So … Abby. What are we gonna do tonight?" he asks me with a smirk.   
I raise my eyebrow. "Excuse me?" I say. But I can't help smiling brightly. There is something about him that makes me – like him. "We know each other for what? Two minutes? And you're asking me out?"   
He scratches the back of his head nervously. "Well … since we are both alone tonight … I thought we could at least make the best out of it. Nobody should be alone on Valentine's Day. Not even when the only alternative is a date with a stranger."   
I chuckle slightly. "And what tells me that you're not a mass murderer?" I ask him playfully, raising my eyebrow even further.   
"Do I look like a mass murderer?" he asks, mimicking the expression on my face, raising his eyebrow as well.   
That makes me laugh. "I don't know. What does one look like?"   
"Not like me," he says after a second, smiling brightly. And he's right.   
  
Suddenly he gets up and falls on one knee in front of me, holding his hand out for me. "Let me be your Valentine."   
I can't help but laugh out loud. But he seems really nice and there is this something about him. So before I even know it I take his hand. "Okay," I agree, no idea what he wants to do or where we'll go. I must be crazy to go with a stranger – but I don't really care. 

***

  
"That was a nice evening," I tell him shyly as we're standing at my doorstep. "I can't remember when I was last out to dance."   
He smiles. I love his smile already. "Me neither. But it was fun."   
"It was," I agree.   
  
We stand in front of each other for a moment when I realize that I really want to see him again. I didn't have that much fun in a long time. I think this was the best Valentine's Day I've ever had. So I get out my pen and take his hand.   
"Call me when … just call me," I tell him stuttering, probably blushing like a teenager at her first date, while I scribble my cell phone number on his hand.   
He smiles back at me. "I will."   
  
And before I know it he leans forward and our lips touch in a short but sweet kiss. I feel butterflies in my stomach immediately.   
  
I just look at him when he pulls back, not knowing what to say. I'm torn between being angry and wanting to kiss him again.   
  
But before I can say anything he looks up above my head and points at a branch of a tree hanging above my head. "I'm sorry, but it's a tradition," he tells me with a smirk.   
I have to laugh at the innocent expression on his face. "I think you're mixing things. The mistletoe is for Christmas."   
He smiles sheepishly and we both know that no answer is needed.   
  
"Happy Valentine's Day," he finally says to me – ending our staring contest - before he kisses me on the cheek and turns around to leave reluctantly.   
"Happy Valentine's Day," I answer, looking after him before he rounds the corner and is out of my sight.   
Maybe there's hope that the something that is missing in my life won't be gone for long after all.   
  
I enter my apartment with a smile – happier than I've been in a long time.   



End file.
